Harry Potter: God's Gift to Men, Women, and Phish
by Worship My Bitchin' Pen Name
Summary: 37 new uses for a popular candy...a pageant you'll never forget...and a love that will last forever... read if you dare!
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hi. This is only my second story, and my first stab at comedy, so I'd be really grateful if you'd read and review. Thanks!

Disclaimer: Not mine. Don't need them to be.

There it was, in huge, audacious, magenta letters, stuck on top of the bulletin board in the Great Hall, with a little laughing face painted inside the circle of the O:

Miss Teen Queen Hogwarts!

Now how was he supposed to resist a challenge like that?

Little did he know, someone was watching as he scrawled his name neatly on the signup…

Draco sighed. "Is it just me, or does anyone else think the way Potter holds his pen is so flippin' hawt?"

"I think you're flippin' hawt," supplied Goyle helpfully.

"Shut up," Draco snapped. "we had our thing, and it didn't work out. Move on."

Meanwhile, Harry checked out his competition. _Millicent Bulstrode. _"Christ," he sighed. "She's so flippin' hawt. There's no way I could beat her."

"You bet your skinny butt you can't," said Millicent, coming up behind him. She pinched the aforementioned butt and walked away, extrememly pleased with her bawdiness.

Draco nearly went mad with jealousy. "Did you see that!" he shouted, irate. "She's scamming on my man!"

Most of the people in the Great Hall turned to stare at him. "Man?" someone coughed.

Draco pulled his emergency ladies' wig out of his shoe and put it on his head. Immediately, everyone tured away from him, and looked around, confused. "Where did Malfoy go?" someone asked.

"My clever ruse worked again!" cried Draco. He took the wig off and sat down.

"Draco?" said Crabbe. "Where did you come from? And where did that girl go? She was so flippin' hawt."

Draco stared at him, confused. "When did you learn to talk?"

Harry returned to the Gryffindor table, proudly holding his quill in front of him, like a trophy. "I've done it," he said.

"Oh my god!" Ron cried. "Did you use protection?"

Harry nodded, pleased with himself. "With this new hand-grip, I can write for hours without a single pain in my hand. And it's so attractive." He pulled the foam tube off his quill. "It comes in twenty-six different colors."

"Can I borrow one?" Ron asked knowingly, and elbowed him in the side.

"Sure," Harry grinned and wiggled his eyebrows.

"Honestly," said Hermione, rolling her eyes. "I don't understand why you're so secretive about your hand-grips."

"It's a guy thing," said Harry. He heard the commotion over at the Slythering table and looked up.

And the world came undone in a single bound.

Standing next to Goyle and Crabbe was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. Her hair was like two bunches of green summer twigs, her eyes, like the marble that knocks every other marble out of the ring. Her hands, like a lumberjack's after a long day's work. His heart began to pound. It was love at first sight.

And then, he blinked and the girl was gone, replaced in a heartbeat by Malfoy.

"Nooooo!" Harry howled as he tore out handfuls of his own hair.

"Must you do this every meal?" Hermione asked.

"Where did she go? Where?" he cried wildly. "I must find this girl!"

"What if she's entering the Miss Teen Queen pageant? Will you still love her then?"

Harry levelled Hermione with a glare. "Of course I will. She'd never beat me."

Back in the Gryffindor common room, Harry paced back and forth for hours, thinking, a practice he was quite unaccustomed to.

_Now I form words in my head, _he thought, _and then…Holy God! I'm reading my own mind! _"Hermione! I can read minds!"

"You own? It's called thinking, Harry."

"Oh, right…" _Okay, and now…I can make pictures in my mind too! Holy—_"Hermione!"

"Just because you can make pictures in your mind does not mean you are a genius, Harry. You're just thinking, remember?"

"Oh, right…" _Now that I've learned to draw pictures and read my own mind, I can—th—th—th—t-h-i-n-k about how to meet this girl…_

_Thinking…_

_Thinking…_

_Thinking… _"Hermione?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"I may need some help."

She sighed. "Why don't you ask Malfoy if he knows about this girl?"

"Brilliant!" Harry cried. "Christ, I love this thinking thing. Talk to ya later, babe." He ran out.

On his way to the Slytherin tower, which he just happened to have the password to, a prefect stopped him in the hall. "Harry Potter?"

Harry stared at him with disdain. "You will refer to me as The-Boy-Who-Lived. Either that, or Conchita."

"All right, Conchita," said the prefect. "The headmaster wants to see you in his office."

"Probably to give me another medal," said Conchita, and proudly tore open his jacket to display his collection of awards.

"Are you asking me to buy one of those?" the prefect asked.

Conchita rolled his eyes and flounced off the the headmaster's office.

"Just follow your heart, Jenkins," Dumbledore told his student warmly. "Always walk with your chest stuck out, and your heart will tell you what to do."

Jenkins looked confused. He stuck out his chest and fell over. "See?" said Dumbledore. "You followed your heart into the ground."

"Enter, Harry," Dumbledore called as Jenkins followed his heart right out the window.

Harry stared at the window, aghast. Dumbledore chuckled. "Kids these days."

"Shouldn't you do something about him?" Harry asked.

"Of course not. Everyone signs a waver before they come to Hogwarts," Dumbledore said. He picked up a piece of paper off his desk. "I happen to have yours right here."

Harry stared at the piece of paper. His name was signed at the bottom in neat, flowing writing. "I didn't sign that," he said.

"Never mind that," Dumbledore said, a bit hurriedly, "About why I called you here…"

Harry's confusion vanished, and he grinned. "It's all right, sir. I know why."

"Do you?"

"Yes. It's because you're in love with me."

"That, Harry, is a matter for another day," Dumbledore said, and chuckled affectionately. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you about you entering the Miss Teen Queen Hogwarts pageant. I'm sorry, but it's simply forbidden."

"What!" Harry shouted. "This can't be happening!"

"I'm sorry, Harry—"

"No!" Harry shouted. He picked up a trinket from the desk and threw it against the wall, where it smashed and lay in a sad broken heap on the floor. "Everything I've ever loved—gone…"

"It's okay, Harry—"

Harry picked up another trinket and ground it between his teeth. "Go on!" he cried. "Get angry."

"Material possessions mean nothing to me," Dumbledore said calmly. "At least, not so much as your love."

Harry collapsed on the floor and broke into loud, shuddering sobs. "I want to die!" he wailed.

"I can arrange that too," said Dumbledore.

Suddenly, Harry raised his head, looking determined. "Then I know what I have to do."

"So you'll go out with me?"

Harry raised his wand and pointed it at Dumbledore's head. "Avda Keaderva!"

"Excuse me?"

Harry lowered his wand, confused. "You were supposed to die."

Dumbledore chuckled. "No, no, Harry. That's _Avada Kadavra."_

There was a flash of green light and a scream. "Oops," said Dumbledore.

The smoke cleared and Harry stood, clutching his forehead. "Ow!" he howled.

"Harry! I thought I'd killed you!"

"Hey, they don't call me, 'Why-don't-you-die-already' for nothing." Harry picked up a mirror and looked at his forehead. "Oh, no!"

"What is it?"

Harry turned. On his forehead was a scar in the shape of a cockroach.

"Okay," Dumbledore said, "You can be in the pageant."

Harry skipped all the way down to the Slytherin common room. He stood in front of the shiny green door and donned his spandex jumpsuit with the velveteen hood. He wanted to blend in.

"Hooskennooned," he said. The snake on the door hissed at him and the door opened.

"Malfoy!" Harry yelled at the top of his lungs. Everyone in the room stopped and stared at him. Draco fell out of his chair. "Potter!"

Harry glowered at him. "Get up, idiot."

"Why are you here, darling—Harry—Potter?"

"Did you just call me darling Harry Potter?" Harry asked.

"No."

"Oh, okay. Listen, I was wondering…" Harry suddenly became acutely embarrassed. "There was this girl…in the Great Hall today…do you know her?"

Draco groaned inwardly. Foiled once again by his gorgeous female alter ego. "Yeah, I know her. What's it to you, my love—Harry—Potter?"

"Did you just call me my love Harry Potter?"

"No."

"Oh, okay. Well…yeah. I think I may be on love with her."

"A bit sudden, isn't it?" Draco asked, feeling ill. "Listen. Maybe, if we went out sometime, we could…talk…"

"No! No time for that! I have to find the girl! Please, tell me who she is," Harry begged.

Suddenly, Draco had an idea. "How about you make it worth my while?"

"I'll do anything!" Harry cried.

"Let me be your pageant coach," said Draco.

"Deal!" said Harry.


	2. Oh My God

A/N: Hi! I wasn't going to continue this, because I got sort of bored, but then I got a review and realized that I am in love with getting reviews. So, here it is again, and hopefully I get more than, like, six hits. Right. Excelsior!

Disclaim it: Yeah, whatever.

Chaper Two: Oh my God…

Draco walked around Harry in a circle, appraisingly, trying to decide where to start. And trying to stop his tongue from hanging out.

"All right," he said finally. "I think we should start with your hair."

Harry tossed his long auburn curls. "My hair is my best attribute," he bragged.

"That's very nice," Draco said politely, "But I was thinking we could go a different way." He advanced on Harry with a pair of tweezers, some hair dye, mousse, spray, a cat dish, elephant feed, Keebler elves and their magic oven, a chunk of fools' gold, and a stale muffin.

After hours and hours of intensive labor, Draco stepped back. "J'ai fini!" he cried. "C'est magnifique!"

"Yeah, but does it look good?" Harry asked.

"See for yourself." Draco pulled out his Mirror of Ear Said. "This will show you how you truly look."

Harry stared at his reflection, who sneered at him. "Loser," said Harry's reflection.

His hair was black, artfully messy, what some might compare to a hedge. His eyes were bright, bright green, like pickled toads. He had a scar on his forehead in the shape of a lightening bolt, and one next to it in the shape of a cockroach. His left pinky toe was slightly larger than the right.

"It's such a change!" Harry cried. His reflection hit him over the head with a pillowball bat. "Idiot!" he screeched.

Draco was extremely pleased with himself. "Do you love yourself?"

"Even more than before!"

"Well, Potter. We're just one step closer. When is the pageant, anyway?"

"In ten minutes," Harry said.

Draco dropped his Keebler elf. _"What?" _

"Didn't I tell you?"

"You know what?" Draco said suddenly, as an idea occurred to him. "I have an idea. We'll use the Time Phish!"

"Isn't that supposed to be 'Time Turner'?" Harry asked.

"No," Draco said adamantly. He pulled the Time Phish on the chain out from under his shirt. "How cute," said Harry. It was tiny, and red. He felt like he should eat it, as opposed to committing Exciting Crimes with it.

"Grab on to me. Very tightly," Draco said.

"I'll ignore how suggestive that sounds," Harry said. He stepped closer to Draco, and grabbed him around the waist.

"Lord," Draco said, his voice becoming fainter as he turned the Time Phish, "It's like Sixteen Candles all over again…"

Harry landed with a thump on top of Draco. "Oh my God, where are we?"

"It's my secret lair," Draco said, his voice muffled. He sounded embarrassed. Harry stood up.

They were in a huge, pink room, lit with torches in sconces all around the room. Harry moved closer and realized that they were singing.

"_It's a pink world after all,_

_It's a pink world after all,_

_It's a pink world after all,_

_We—love—Draco!"_

"Is this how you get your kicks?" Harry asked.

"You could say that."

Harry looked around, and realized, with a start, that he had not landed on Draco. He was standing on a unicorn.

"Hi," said the unicorn. "I'm Charlie! Can I take you to Candy Mountain?"

Harry screamed. He took out the tap he used to get his syrup from the trees and stuck in into the unicorn. Now it was Charlie's turn to scream as Harry collected a bucket of his magical cotton candy blood.

"What are you doing?" Draco asked Harry.

"This stuff is worth a fortune!" Harry cried, laughing maniacally. He stuffed it in his pocket.

Charlie, who had recovered, cried happily, "Can I take you to Candy—"

Harry kicked him. "Shut up, you horny horse! Wait, that didn't come out right."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Get off the unicorn, Harry."

"Soooo dirty!" Harry cried, and jumped off. He landed on the floor, and then realized that he had actually landed on a magic carpet. "Wow!" Harry cried.

"Hi!" said the Carpet. "Can I take you to Jafar?"

Harry jumped off and landed on the Eiffel Tower. Then, he realized he had landed on the floor.

"It's about time," said Draco. "Now let's take this Phish and Go!"

"Go? Phish?" Harry asked.

"We have to get to Makeup Mountain!" Draco said. "We have exactly—sixteen minutes!"

"Before what?"

"Before the world implodes!"

Next time: Will the world implode? Can Charlie get a blood donor? And—how pretty can Harry get?


	3. I know everyone's been waiting for this

So. I was right. It did get more than six hits. (Eight!) Obviously no one likes this story but I'm kind of having fun now. So here's another chapter. Do you feel blessed?

Harry stared at Draco, shocked. "I didn't know the world could implode. I thought only llamas did that."

Draco looked at him strangely, which was the only way he knew how to look at anybody. "Didn't you know the world was shaped like a llama?"

"Actually, it's an oblate sphereoid—" began Conchita, but he was interrupted. "I don't care about that psychobabble!" cried Draco, frightened. "No matter what you say, I won't admit that I'm in love with you!"

"Ohhhhhh…"

"Never mind!" said Draco quickly, borderline panicked. "Let's just—let's just get to Makeup Mountain! Easy—breezy—beautiful!" he began to laugh, pitifully.

"Ooookay," said Harry. "Are we driving…flying—?"

"Those things are for amateurs, Harry—muffin—potterpants—puppet—pals—Potter!" cried Draco, quite out of breath by the end.

"Yeahwhatever—" said Harry, confused.

"We," said Draco craftily, are going to use my extraterrestrial phone to call a taxi."

"Why are you raising and lowering your eyebrows at me—" Harry began.

"Because it's secretive!" shouted Draco, frustrated. "God, are you hopeless or what?" He took out his rape whistle and blew it as hard as he could.

"Me next!" cried Harry. He took the rape whistle but Draco cut him off. "Harry," he said severly, "That rape whistle is a commitment. If you blow it I'm obligated to rape you."

"But you just—"

"Forget what I did!" said Draco. "It's in charge here. Now. What were we just doing?"

"It's been fifteen and a half minutes," Harry said helpfully.

"Since what?"

"Since you said we had to get to Makeup Mountain or the world would implode."

"Oh, that." Draco laughed. "I lied."

"There's no Makeup Mountain?" Harry asked, crestfallen.

"No. There is. But it was actually _fifteen _minutes till the world imploded."

"But it's been fifteen and a—"

_Bang. Crash. The lighting flashed. _

"Quick!" cried Harry as the world came down around his rather large ears. "Go to the woods!"

"Don't you know what's in the woods?" Draco shouted back. "Giants! Wolves! Princes! Humans!"

"Sounds like a great place to meet people," said Harry.

Draco's heart nearly broke at the thought of some female giant stealing his beloved. And stealing Harry, too, for that matter. "No! Not the woods!"

"Then where do you suggest we go?" Harry asked as one of the pieces of the world that seemed strangely prone to falling down around people's ears actually hit him and took off one. Of his ears.

"I had meant to do that later, anyways," Draco consoled him. "One ear is very fashionable right now."

"You know what else is fashionable?" Harry asked. "Not dying."

"Actually," began Draco conversationally.

"Shut up!" Harry said. "I want to be easy, breezy, and beautiful! Let's go to Makeup Mountain!"

"You already are easy," Draco pointed out. "Or that's what it said on the bathroom wall."

"Why are you doing this to me?" Harry asked flatly.

"The sky is falling!" Draco cried. "And you seriously are worried about your makeup?"

"Look, pal," Harry said fiercely. "Some people are born with it. But I need Maybelline!"

"My aunt is named Maybelline," Draco told Harry.

"Yes, yes, and your mother is Narcissisa, your father is Lucius, and your cousin is Obsessa—Compulsa—Disordera! Not that I don't think those names are subtle!" Harry cried outraged.

"Crap. I thought we were so discreet," said Draco the Dragon.

"Take me to Makeup Mountain!" screamed Harry. "I wanna be beautiful!"

It was then that they realized the world was gone, and they were floating in outer space.

"Does this mean there's no more Makeup Mountain?'

OMG! Lolz! What a cliffie! So I know I left you at the edge of your seats. Next time: Who cares? No one's reading this goddamn story anyway!


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